And though he is his mother’s joy,
He plagues her, too, they say.
For when his task he’s bid to do,
He sits him down and cries, “Boo-hoo!
I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”
Yes! whether he’s to practise well,
Or do his horrid sums,
Or “Hippopotamus” to spell,
Or clean to wash his thumbs:
It matters not, for with a frown